


The Best Offer

by Kikimay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Falling In Love, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-11 05:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7877557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikimay/pseuds/Kikimay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco tells the story of how he and Harry became a family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Offer

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  **Warning(s):** None
> 
>  **Epilogue compliant?** LOL, nope.
> 
>  **Author's Notes:** I’m a sucker for Draco/Harry family fics and I tried to do my best fulfilling the asker’s wishes with this one, not sure if I succeeded. I hope I didn’t exaggerate with the amount of fluff. Many thanks to my beta, whose name it’s probably best revealed after October 1st, for her patience and the culinary suggestions. Implied!mpreg, if you want to interpret the ending that way.
> 
> Written for [PROMPT 42](http://hd-familyfest.livejournal.com/14832.html?thread=210928#t210928) for [hd_familyfest](http://hd-familyfest.livejournal.com/14832.html)

The buzz of a bee was disturbing Draco’s rest. The wizard was curled in his favourite velvet chair, a cotton cloth on his knees and a pacifier in his fingers. Annoyed by the noise, he turned his head away from the window overlooking the garden. In that moment his senses were assaulted by a distinctly unpleasant odour, well known to him.

"Salazar …" he gasped, rousing himself from the depths of sleep.

In waking up, he banged his nose against the thick edge of his chair and rubbed his eyes several times, in an attempt to assuage the discomfort caused by sunlight.

A childish giggle forced him to complete lucidity. Draco rose from his chair and moved towards the nursery against the wall. Little Harry, kneeled upon his wrinkled cover, was stretching out his chubby arms towards him.

"I dozed off for a moment and here you are, welcoming me with a surprise?" the Slytherin joked, bending down to take the baby. Harry pressed himself against his chest and Draco was able to examine the contents of his diaper.

"Oh, terrible!" he exclaimed loudly. "Truly awful!"

Harry squirmed against him, laughing. With a sparrow-like squeak, he lay on the soft surface of the changing table and opened his legs to ease the nappy changing.

"Good Founders!" Draco said, opening his eyes comically, as he put in motion scented wipes and talc with a wave of his wand. "I’ve never seen such a sight! Never, ever seen!"

Little Harry was infinitely amused by those exclamations of amazement and didn’t oppose any resistance to the expert caresses that cleaned, refreshed and clothed him well.

When the operation dirty diaper ended, Draco took him back in his arms and headed for the kitchen.

"It’s time for your snack, my little seeker."

Harry had been placed in his seat, when the kids burst into the room like a horde of centaurs.

"Grandpa, tell Remy that you can’t change the rules while we’re playing a game!"

"Grandpa, Narcissa is lying! I didn’t change the rules! She’s nasty!"

"Is Harry already awake? Can we take him with us in the garden?"

Draco rolled his eyes and wand, starting the preparation of Harry’s food, who was shaking his tiny fists in anticipation. Draco kissed his forehead and the dark and curly hair that smelled of vanilla.

"I’m not nasty!"

"Yes you are. You always want to win!"

"Remy, stop arguing with Narcissa."

"Here, stop Remy," Draco agreed, turning instantly to the three plagues in his kitchen. "Listen to your sister Joanie."

Remy curled his lips in an outraged pout, muttering something unintelligible in his sleeve. Narcissa opened wide her grey eyes, triumphant.

"And stop you too!" her grandfather warned, turning to her. "It’s not nice to bully the little ones."

The victorious aura disappeared from Narcissa’s face and the girl’s lips turned in a pout incredibly similar to her cousin’s.

Draco hid a smile.

"Right now, who wants a snack?"

Joanie, Remy and Narcissa stretched out their hands simultaneously.

~

 

Sitting at the table, near to little Harry who was devouring his food, the three children sank their spoons in the fruity ice cream.

"Grandfather, when will our parents return?"

"Very soon, my dear."

"But I want to go home now!" Remy murmured, pressing his dirty nose against his folded arms.

Draco sat down next to him and grabbed a handkerchief that was floating in the air to clean him.

"How about we spend our time with a story?"

"What story?" The freckled four years old asked.

Narcissa opened her arms.

"Oh, I know! I know!" she exclaimed, delighted. " _The story of how Grandfather Draco fell in love with Grandfather Harry!"_

 

 

 

 

_ONE_

 

 

The auction room was full of people. From the hallway, Draco could hear the murmur that accompanied their wait, the shaking rhythm of sheets and fans.

Draco waited for his colleague’s nod, perfecting the fold of the gloves on his fingers, adjusting the rhythm of his breathing, smiling as he reached the small stage in the middle of the room.

"Welcome, kind wizards and witches! Welcome to the fifth annual auction for the _Lumos_ project. As you know, the auction proceeds will be donated to purchase new wands for wizards in need. In addition, more than a half of the proceeds will be used to support young promises of the Wizard World who come from Muggle families. Let’s start with a seventeen century silver cauldron!"

With a touch of magic, the huge red velvet curtain behind him disappeared, revealing the first item.

~

"Congratulations, director Malfoy! Outstanding auction, as always!"

"As always!"

Draco sank into courteous nods and long handshakes. The charity auction for _Lumos_ had resulted in a success, as usual since the second edition. The audience had rushed around him for flattery, before dispersing in the corridors that led to the exit.

Draco gave his time generously, praising the wealthiest clients, those loyal collectors who enriched his company. Draco was definitely blessed by their favour and would have done everything to keep it that way.

"Director Malfoy …"

"One moment, please. I’m dismissing Mr Shafiq who so kindly contributed to our successful auction! Mr Shafiq … it was an honour."

The old wizard lowered his head in a graceful gesture and disappeared after a final handshake.

Draco turned venomously towards his employee. He had given strict instructions not to be interrupted, but the terrified expression and the vaguely purplish complexion of Eddie Parkinson convinced him to instantly subside.

"What then?"

"The Boy Who wants to see … Oh, Merlin’s beard! It makes me so anxious just to having him here! Auror Potter is in the waiting room, he asked for you. The Auror Harry Potter!"

~

In the silence of his office, Draco took a deep breath and poured two fingers of Firewhisky in his glass, putting off his suede gloves and replacing them with a pair of emerald velvet ones.

For a moment, he considered the colour of the latter pair, with a serpentine design on the wrists, and thought about the impression that they might have on Potter, Gryffindor extraordinaire.

Then he raised his eyebrows and drank the Firewhisky in one gulp. _I dare you to make a snarky remark, Potter!_ , he thought as his throat burned from the liquor, _I dare you!_

Parkinson knocked on the door with the usual lightness, only two touches to announce his presence.

"Enter, please," Draco conceded, abandoning his emptied glass.

Harry Potter, youngest Head of the Auror Division in the history of magic and rising star in the fight against evil, showed up with a broad smile and a rough and friendly hand extended towards him.

For some reason, of all the scenarios Draco had imagined (Potter bursting into his office to the sound of " _Expelliarmus_!", Potter accusing him of being an unrepentant double agent, Potter with all the Wizengamot behind showing him the records of all the Quidditch matches won by the Gryffindor team; some unlikely scenarios, that much he was willing to admit) a smile and a handshake were unpredicted.

Draco must have remained stunned for a moment, because Potter’s smile had turned into a confused grimace and his hand was left to hover in the air as petrified by a basilisk.

"Potter," Draco finally croaked, saying his surname as a confirmation of an old, reassuring habit.

"Malfoy."

That familiar ground had to reassure both, especially Draco who resumed control of the situation.

"Sit down," he said, pointing at the chairs before the desk. "I guess it’s not appropriate to offer you a drink …"

"It’s not. I’m on duty."

They sat in front of each other.

Potter fumbled with the buttons of his uniform, loosening up two on the collar. He had become a thirty something attractive man, athletic and strong, with capable muscles under the layers of his dark red uniform. Draco found himself staring at the movement of his Adam’s apple on his neck shaded by a hint of stubble, kissed by the sun.

"I asked to see you because …"

Draco roused from his unexpected trance.

"Yes, about that. Why did you come? Today’s auction meant a lot for the Lumos foundation and if anyone had seen an Auror in the corridors ..."

"Does it bother you that your buyers could consider your house under investigation?"

Draco curled his lips in an outraged pout, berating himself for the imprudent debut.

"Wouldn’t that bother anyone? The wizards who come to my auction house do it because they have faith in my methods and in the equity of the valuations. If there was even the slightest suspicion of corruption, it would be better for me to quit everything and relocate in Scotland to breed garden gnomes!"

Harry frowned and, after a moment, grinned.

"Figured."

"Then why did you ask?"

Harry’s grin partially shifted, a dark glow invaded his green eyes making him resemble a predator studying his surroundings.

"As you know," he began, after a pause that should have served to organise the attack. "Someone recently stole two magical artefacts from the old Borgin warehouse. They were a mummified hand and a dagger …"

"I heard about it. I don’t see what it has to do with me, that’s not the kind of article I expose on my auctions."

"And yet it happened in the past that you’ve treated questionable magic items. And someone considered them so dangerous to report them to the Ministry …"

Draco wrinkled his nose.

"Who has forwarded those complaints was just trying to tarnish my reputation, for entirely personal reasons. As if the good name of my family wasn’t already been compromised enough by the war! But you know that well, don’t you? Who better than you, Potter! Saviour of the Wizarding World, saviour of house Malfoy …"

The Auror shifted in his chair, almost looking regretful at the thought of the old process. Draco tried to drive away the bitter taste of a forced gratitude that still burned in his mouth.

"As I recall, when it happened, you came into my office and personally ascertained the validity of those allegations."

"And I found you innocent," Harry said, straining forward. "That’s why I need you now."

"Beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Those stolen artefacts can evoke a very powerful magic and if my office would be able to discover the source of their illegal trade …"

"With my help?!"

Harry pressed his open palms against the desk.

"Your auction house is one of the most famous in the Wizarding World, certainly the most famous in United Kingdom. I know that you personally check on your suppliers and make an inspection of the places of interest. These items I’m looking for … they were sold in a charity auction just like yours! So, who better than you to help me solve the case? You have experience and understand how people handle these things. I’m asking for your help, Malfoy. I’m not accusing you of anything."

Draco stiffened instantly, surprised by the unexpected proposition.

"And what will I gain out of this?" he hissed instinctively, too confused to formulate a better question.

Potter snorted loudly, muttering something like "typical Slytherin" that never failed to infuriate Draco, but he gave him no time for a salacious reply.

"I’ve already asked Shacklebolt for a public praise, if we are to be successful. I know very well how it was for you to go into business after the war, I know your commitment for more transparency and to get rid of the ghosts of the past. I even have to admit that … I admire it."

Draco’s eyes widened comically. Harry shrugged.

"You’re doing your best to amend for your mistakes and change your future. It takes strength and courage to do so."

Draco allowed himself to take a moment to assimilate the declaration. Then he bowed his head in an almost imperceptible gesture of assent.

"What do you think about this, Malfoy?"

"Yes," he breathed softly, repeating the nod with more conviction. "Alright, I’ll help."

Potter smiled once again, brightly. A smile that Draco could not help but find handsome.

"See you tomorrow then! I’ll come around noon, if that’s okay, and I’ll show you something I would like you to see."

"Inform my assistant of the details. Noon is fine, Potter, but please don’t delay. I have an evaluation in the early afternoon."

"Won’t be late. Thank you, Malfoy."

The Auror took his leave after a vigorous handshake. Before opening the door, he turned to Draco one last time.

"Nice auction, anyway. You’re a charming host."

Draco nodded and sat down on his velvet favourite chair, exhaling an amazed sigh.

 

 

 

 

_TWO_

 

 

"And that’s how you’ve got married? Grandpa Harry and you?" Remy asked, unfolding his arms.

Draco chuckled, waving the purple rubber dragon that was monopolising little Harry’s attention.

"Oh Remy, of course not!" Narcissa rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Do you really believe it happened so quickly? You need to do the courtship before getting married to someone. Everyone knows that!"

"What?"

" _Courtship_ ," Narcissa repeated, enunciating each syllable with impeccable clarity. She was the eldest among the young cousins and it was her role to teach them proper English.

Joanie turned to her brother with a magnanimous gaze, shaking her head like somebody who knew much more than allowed.

"Auntie Hermione explained that once, remember? When Uncle Ron was in love with her, he had to buy flowers and tell her many lovely things and find a sword hidden at the bottom of a frozen lake, or something like that. It’s really hard to _courtship_ somebody."

Remy looked amazed.

"Courting someone is not that terrible!" Draco exclaimed, unable to restrain an amused laugh. On his lap, baby Harry grabbed the rubber dragon, victorious conqueror at last, and tried to devour it. "It happens when two people are interested in each other. They both seek opportunities to see their beloved and do entertaining activities with them. You can go to dinner, enjoy Quidditch together, go swimming, if you like …"

"Have an ice-cream!"

"That too, yes. You mostly do the things that make you happy. It’s just that, sometimes, you don’t realise that you’re being wooed …"

~

Potter had turned up the next morning, punctual as the Hogwarts Express, and from there almost every day, armed with maps and various kinds of documents he wanted to show to Draco.

"Explain again how it works," he ordered, once the sheets were lying on the office desk.

Draco rubbed two fingers against his forehead.

"It works, Potter, that in most cases the customers contact us. Someone finds a curious magical object or a particularly interesting painting? They send an owl to us and ask for an appointment. The first one is necessary to determine the possible value of the object and the interest of potential buyers."

"Do you go at the first appointment?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Merlin, no! I’ve got employees for that. The average wizard finds one or two items of interest once every six months, often junk of overt futility and ugliness, but that’s it. Imagine if I had to go in person to every appointment!"

Harry nodded, squinting. Draco looked amused and continued the explanation.

"Once my assistants have determined the eventual value of the object, I meet the client and agree with him the details of the case."

"But do you always determine yourself whether the object can be auctioned or not? If I remember correctly, you don’t put so much trust into your assistants."

"I don’t. Assistants can make mistakes."

"And you don’t?" Potter pressed.

Draco considered his sceptical grin.

"No, I don’t," he replied calmly.

An inquiring expression returned on the Auror’s face, but without that touch of enjoyment that somehow lingered until then.

Draco felt compelled to explain.

"It’s my job and that’s the reason why I am the manager. The important choices are entrusted to me and I can’t go wrong. Certainly, I’m not perfect. I also happen to make mistakes, but … check the records. No misevaluation in five years straight. The buyers are very happy. This is my talent, to recognise beauty. I’m not able to create it myself, but I can recognise it."

"Why do you say that? Not being able to create beauty?"

Draco smiled softly.

"Because that’s the truth. Not everyone is capable of creating art. It’s a matter of talent and genius. Something uncontrollable, like the instinct that makes you turn on your broom when the snitch is around. You should know something about that, don’t you?"

A strange silence settled between them. Harry came closer to him, almost alarmingly closer. He was now examining Draco, studying his expression in search for honesty and maybe even something else.

Draco opposed his most controlled expression.

"And anyway," he continued, conscious of being examined. "There are regulations and standard procedures. I would recommend you read them, before plunging into my office and wasting my time."

"Sure. Okay."

"It’s so late now and I’d like to go home and have dinner …"

"Come with me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yes," Potter repeated, casually. "Come with me, I’ll buy you dinner. I’ve got to earn my forgiveness for all this time-wasting, don’t I?" he proposed, with a cheeky smile.

Draco turned around, searching for a sign that the room was still there – yes thank you – and flashing a look at Potter, who was waiting for his answer. Unperturbed.

"Fine," he finally exhaled. "I’ll come with you and you have to offer me dinner," he said, straightening his robe.

Potter smiled and held out a hand.

~

Potter’s chosen restaurant was a tiny cave lit by candles, located in a place so remote that Draco wouldn’t have been able to find it without the Auror’s guidance. At nine o’clock, in a not so dramatic summer evening, the place was mercifully not crowded.

From the half empty main hall, they reached to a second small room with large windows that looked out on the sea. Potter, who had to be an attached costumer, had got a corner table sheltered from prying eyes.

"It upsets me when people look at me while I eat," he said, jokingly.

But Draco didn’t miss the bitter tilt in his voice, the distant shadow in his glare. Harry Potter had never flaunted his Chosen One reputation, this was fair to admit.

In the light of yellow and warm purple candles, his face seemed to lose a bit of the seriousness he had acquired over the years, the hardness of the soldier capable of great heroism and sacrifices, and before a wrinkled menu, Potter returned to look like the starved, spiteful kid in Hogwarts.

Harry Potter, with the lightning-shaped scar, scratching his hair while he was thinking deeply about something and squeezing his right eye more than the other.

"Do you like the choices here, by the way? I don’t know if this place is your kind of thing, since you always look so …"

"So what?" Draco asked, turning his focus on the menu.

"Posh, I guess."

Draco wrinkled his nose and lifted his pointed chin.

"I like fish and chips."

"Oh Potter, spare me please!"

"I really do."

They exchanged a look and busted out laughing together. Potter ordered the drinks and Draco felt compelled to continue the conversation on the security systems of the auction house, to break the awkward tension that could arise.

"Every object, after being classified and catalogued, is moved in the warehouse on the ground floor, the one that I showed you the other morning. The warehouse is protected by powerful spells and you’ve already tested their effectiveness. When we organise an auction, the items are transported from the warehouse to the main hall and, from there, back to the warehouse waiting to be delivered to the new owners."

"Mh …" Potter muttered, busy devouring his meal. "And there would be no way to get rid of something on the path from the warehouse to the auction room?"

"If there is I’m not aware. My employees and the goblins who take care of transport are above all suspicions."

"Mm-hmm," Potter approved, his words or the chips.

Draco began to cut his meat into equal squares with mathematical precision.

"You have some good gloves," the Auror said, pointing to his pair of red suede with silver buttons. "Always wear nice gloves."

"Thank you."

"Why?"

Draco opened his grey eyes, raised his eyebrows. He had a strange, contained expressiveness, like that of a lively child who had been told not to make noise.

"When I successfully conclude a deal, people shake my hand. As you can imagine, at this point it happens quite often and, sometimes, even for a very long time. With sweaty hands even. I don’t like it."

"Don’t you like physical contact?"

Draco curled his lips in a very telling grimace, but rather than insisting on the subject, Harry smiled and continued to eat his meal.

"No jokes, Potter?" Draco urged, somehow out of his element.

"No," he said. And then, looking up. "I’m not so social myself, as you may have noticed."

Draco considered the admission and studied the tiny restaurant on the coast that looked like a cave lit only by candles. Some of them assumed animal shapes: a deer, a hare, a robin …

"You know, Malfoy? In this light it seems like all the softness in the world might belong to you."

Draco turned to Harry, who had pronounced the unexpected confession and stared at him without replying.

 

 

 

 

_THREE_

 

"Did Grandpa Harry really say so?" Narcissa asked.

Even Remy was surprised by the unexpected confession. Draco chuckled, cradling baby Harry now asleep against his chest, the rubber dragon squeezed tight by his chubby fingers.

"Grandpa Harry’s … _smooth_ ," Joanie said, swinging her legs.

"Is he?" Draco retorted. "And let’s see, what does that mean?"

Joanie shrugged.

"I don’t know, but I’ve heard Aunt Lily saying it once and I think it sounds good. Grandpa Harry is pretty, if you think about it. He has really black hair and really green eyes. Those are all nice things!"

Draco laughed.

"On this we agree entirely. Grandpa Harry is very pretty."

"And that’s how you got married?" Remy asked, puzzled by the length of the story. Didn’t people look at each other and just fell in love? "Also did Grandpa Harry found the stuff he was looking for? Did he solve the case in the end?"

"Yes," Draco replied. "Your Grandfather found the mummified hand and the dagger and delivered them to the Ministry of Magic. He also discovered the identities of those who stole the items through a charity auction and the case ended with a success."

"So?"

Draco smiled.

"Your Grandfather, however, didn’t stop coming to see me."

~

The room was fairly crowded for a Monday auction dedicated to Rowena Ravenclaw’s bath objects. Draco reached his place behind the curtain and marked the start of the auction with a spell.

The morning turned out to be pretty satisfactory. In a flash of inspiration, he even managed to snatch two hundred galleons for an inlaid brush and fifty-five for a box that clearly was worth only half of the amount. His concentration waved only for a moment, when he saw Auror Potter, guest card in hand and dorky smile on his face, sitting in the back rows.

"One hundred thirty! One hundred thirty going once, going twice, sold to the Gentleman in the second row!" he exclaimed, pressing his wand against the table for the last time.

The auction ended with applause and the clients left the room. Harry came closer.

"Hey, Malfoy!"

"Hey you, Potter. I’ve heard that your investigation was successful, not that I expected otherwise considering your dumb luck. What brings you here again? Other inane questions?"

Harry grinned, shaking his head.

"I just wanted to see you. You’re really good at your job, by the way. I think you’ve got more than deserved for that brush with the flowers behind."

"What you’re talking about? I absolutely have no idea."

"I don’t think it was worth that much, but good for you, I guess. I won a comb."

Draco raised his eyebrows.

"The floating one with the fish on it. It looks cute."

"I’m sure that if you’d learn to use it, it would not be so bad."

Potter giggled, scratching the back of his head where the messy black hair grew unruly.

"So … do you want me to hand over the comb?" the Slytherin asked, uncertain.

"No, no. There’s no hurry. But I want you to come with me, if you please."

Draco looked around. He saw Eddie in the background and gave him a nod.

"I think … all right," he conceded, clinging to the Auror’s arm before Disapparating with him.

~

They Apparated before the gates of the old Malfoy Manor, shaded by pine trees and ferns. Draco swallowed, confused.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked.

"I heard that the Manor is no longer sequestered and that, from time to time, you come here for a visit."

"Yes."

"Would you mind to invite me in?"

Draco did so, heart pounding.

They went into the entrance hall, ghostly and grim as Harry remembered it, and then into the living room with the coats of arms of the family devoured by rust.

Draco’s chin trembled, as if he was about to burst into sobs.

"You have a store downstairs? Can you show me?"

They reached the basement and Draco opened the huge ironclad door with a gesture. The cellar, once bleak prison for those who dared to face Voldemort and his followers, had been freshly painted to perfection.

"Weird, huh? The rest of the Manor seems abandoned, but this place has not even a spider web on the ceiling."

They continued to proceed until they saw the small storage, beyond a marble arc.

Draco stopped instantly.

"Don’t …"

"Please, I just want to see."

Hidden in the basement of the Malfoy Manor, there were long lost objects, disappeared from the market. Portraits of baby Draco with or without his parents, wooden toys refurbished and waxed, mirrors and furniture.

"Draco …"

"They belonged to my family! The Ministry took them from us and I just saved them back! These objects belonged to my family," he murmured, looking at the portrait of his mother who tenderly smiled at him. "I didn’t steal anything."

"I know they belonged to you," Harry whispered. "But there are rules …"

"Bugger the rules!" Draco growled, going away.

Harry followed him in the farthest corner of the room, the one with the most precious treasure: a huge ornate mirror, with clawed feet and a gold frame inscribed with a mysterious phrase that Harry knew so well.

"I found it in Romania, years ago. It had to be brought up for auction, but I managed to hide and bring it here. I don’t know what it is, but it makes me see things …"

"What do you see in the mirror?"

Draco took a deep breath.

"The first time ever I saw myself in Quidditch robes, flying high above the clouds. I was happy, free. Seeing myself like that was … But the image changed quickly and since then it has remained more or less the same, with some variations."

"Tell me."

Draco turned slightly.

" _Family_. I am surrounded by family. I know it has to be mine because … there are my parents behind me, my mother when she was still used to wear jade brooches in her hair; I was so young back then, happy. There are children beside me too. Boys and girls, sometimes grown men and women. They are so many. I think they are mine because …"

"They look like you."

"They do. And sometimes they even resemble another … they have my nose or my hair, the Malfoy complexion. They surround me and smile at me. I would like to touch them so badly, but the mirror doesn’t work that way. Only shows images."

"Your heart’s deepest desires," Harry explained.

Draco turned again, shooting him a glare.

"Do you know this object?"

"I do. I saw it for the first time when I was eleven, at Hogwarts. It showed me exactly what you see now: a family, mine. I’ll never forget the feeling. I had never seen a picture of my parents before. Never."

Draco bit his lip, trying to stop his chin from trembling.

"What did you do then?"

"I stopped watching. Dumbledore told me what it was and how it worked. The Mirror of Erised; _It shows not your face but your heart’s desire."_

Draco stepped in front of the mirror where the children were playing. Despite being aware of the illusion, he tried to reach out to them.

"How often do you come here?"

"When I feel lonely. It makes me … feel better."

"I understand."

"Do you now?"

"Draco …"

"But you’re going to take it back, aren’t you? It’s not mine and you’re going to send it to the Ministry." A sob broke the silence of the cellar. And then another and another. "It’s not fair! That’s the only way I can see them … the only way."

Harry closed his eyes.

_"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."_

"And what’s that supposed to mean?" Draco snapped. "I can’t have a family but I don’t deserve to even look into a mirror? What kind of self-righteous bullshit is that? If only you’d stop for once with your bloody high moral ground and looked around you …"

"That’s not the only way," Harry murmured, strangely calm but with a harsh glow in the depth of his eyes. "You can have a family."

"What?"

The Auror grabbed Draco’s hand, gently but with iron determination. He slipped off the soft glove from his fingers, one digit at time, lingering on the knuckles and caressing the sensitive fingertips.

"I reckon that you’re familiar with the whole baby-making process. You know how that works, don’t you?" he asked, carelessly tracing patterns on the palm of the hand.

Draco shivered. A tear fell from his eye, but he didn’t seem to notice. His heart was beating like mad and Potter was touching him.

Potter was touching him.

"Oh yes, I suppose you do," the Auror murmured, his voice hoarse, fingers playing against fingers. "We could start working on that. And since the mirror is full of kids, we have a lot to catch up."

And then lips against fingers, tongue against fingers.

Draco groaned, forgetting everything about mirrors and portraits. Coming closer and closer, until …

~

"Oh wow!" Joanie exhaled. "Wow!"

"Of course Grandpa Harry is just smooth!" Narcissa giggled, excited.

"He really is," Draco agreed, omitting the part where Harry pulled off his gloves and started doing marvellous things with his mouth. Definitely not a narrative to be disclosed in front of his audience. "Your Grandfather took my hand and proposed to start a family together, just before the Mirror of Erised."

"But surely he had to think a lot about this stuff. Courtship is hard!" Remy said, doubtfully.

Draco laughed. From the living room, he heard the Floo activating.

 

 

 

_SOLD_

 

 

 

"Mommy! Daddy!"

Joanie and Remy rushed into Victoire and Teddy’s arms, who were just materialised in the living room. After a moment, from the bright green flames of the Floo, James Sirius emerged, handsomely smiling.

Little Narcissa jumped into her father’s arms and swung in the air before being captured in a tight embrace.

"My lovely! How I’ve missed you!" he exhaled, reddening her cheeks with kisses.

Draco reached his son.

"I understand that your report at the Ministry worked out well?" he asked, caressing his arm.

James Sirius had grey laughing eyes, full of a peculiar kind of mischief that was softened over the years and became pure fatherly joy after the birth of Narcissa and his marriage to Mary Louise Longbottom.

Although he had exceeded both fathers in height, Draco couldn’t help but see the child struggling with his first broom, the boy sat by the window waiting for his Hogwarts letter or wrapped in a tiny blanket, still flushed from being welcomed into the world.

"Was Narcissa a good girl? And baby Harry?"

Draco pointed at the bed at the edge of the room.

"Don’t wake him up," he whispered, bringing a shushing finger to his lips.

"Thanks, Pap! I couldn’t go there without you looking for the kids. Mary and I are grateful."

"Nonsense. You know how much I love taking care of my future heirs," he said, sending a sly grin at Narcissa, who grinned back.

Then it was Teddy and Victoire’s turn to thank him and the Floo flames resumed their burning hot green as Scorpius, Albus and Lily returned home.

"The holy Potter-Johnson alliance is to be sealed, Al! There are zero hopes for your team this year!"

"Sure, Lils! Whatever you say."

Scorpius rolled his eyes, listening to his bickering siblings already headed into the kitchen and went to his Father with a defeated expression.

"Again with Quidditch?" Draco asked, patting his back.

Scorpius buried his face in the crook of his Father’s neck, rubbing his nose like a kitten, as he used to when, child, he crawled into his parents’ bed because of the scary storms.

"It’s so boring, Papa! I’m the only immune here," he protested.

Draco smiled.

"Patience, darling. And, by the way, where is your …"

The question was interrupted by the last Floo activation.

Draco let out a pleased sigh.

~

"How does it feel, Draco?"

Potter moved above him, against him, rubbing his erection against Draco’s thighs, as the other was gasping for breath, for a hold that would allow him to recover from the delirious dream of having Potter in his bed.

"It’s not a dream. It’s real."

Potter who, apparently, also learned to read his mind as the most expert Legimens, casted out the fastidious robes and removed the Auror uniform, a bottle of lube materialised next to his flushed face.

Draco swallowed, letting himself fall against the white silk pillows, allowing access to the fingers searching into him, opening and preparing him with excruciating slowness.

"Potter … oh please, Potter!"

"It’s Harry for you."

"Harry!"

The Auror smiled, lowering a bit to kiss his lover’s ravished lips.

Draco gripped the sheets ever so tightly as a third finger sought his way inside him and whimpered in pleasure when he heard the hoarse voice of Potter – _Harry_ – wetting him even more with another spell.

"Oh God …"

Then Harry took him by the hips, guiding him into a sitting position, holding him close.

 _"I want that too_ ," he whispered, with revealing pleading eyes. "I want a family too, Draco."

Draco couldn’t help but nod and welcome him in a much needed embrace.

~

The lemon trees were well developed in that side of garden that led to the house secondary entrance. In a pitch at the centre, the children had left their colourful scoops; Draco would have collected them later.

His husband was sitting in his favourite corner, an old jacket over his shoulders, his left leg extended forward.

"Still that bothersome knee?" Draco asked, bending down before him.

Harry gritted his teeth, nodding.

Draco touched the articulation with lips and took a seat next to him. Harry was trying to ignore the pain by studying the flight of a lonely bee among ripe lemons.

"Are James and Teddy still here?" he asked, after a moment of meditation.

"Yes."

From the living room came Scorpius’ happy laughter and the lively bickering between Albus and Lily.

"Do you ever think when they will go away too?"

Draco shook his head, wrinkling his pointy nose.

"Lily’s still too young! And so are Scorpius and Albus."

"Sure, love."

Draco’s index and middle finger wrapped against Harry’s thumb, who greeted the gesture with a languid kiss on the neck, before hiding his face in it.

"Harry, what’s wrong?"

He didn’t answer, at first. He kept on watching the bee, no longer lonely, swiftly flying over a flowering basswood tree.

"I was wondering if you ever miss your job. You decided to quit after James was born and I know you were determined to personally take care of the kids, but you were also so good at estimating and your auction house was very successful."

"And it still is. It’s not over."

"It is for you," Harry said, lifting his face just a bit, looking exactly like a shy baby Albus. "And sometimes I can’t help but wonder if you ever regret it. Leaving your workplace for us."

Draco performed his most impressive exasperate glare.

"Salazar, Potter! All these years and you still don’t know?"

"I know. I do! I think it’s just … you had your talent and your dreams and you wanted many things. You deserved many things. I need to know that I did that for you, that my offer was the better one."

Draco chuckled.

"As if I were an auction item?"

"As if you were still on that stage, with your velvet gloves and your wand pointing at the edge. I fell in love just watching you. I wonder if I’ve taken other possible joys from you."

"Other joys … seriously!"

Harry let out a pained groan and Draco held him closer.

"Do you remember what I saw in the Mirror of Erised when I used to look at it?"

"Yeah, I do."

"If I went back to look now, I know I wouldn’t see anything but this: you, the lemons, the voices of our children squabbling over Quidditch."

Harry giggled, wrapping his arms around his torso.

"I’m so happy and this is what I wanted for myself. Being happy," Draco explained, looking back at him with limpid grey eyes. "Your offer was, by far, the very best."

Harry gave him his usual dorky, dopey, beautiful smile, that made Draco once again sure of his decision. He kissed his husband’s forehead and stroked his hair, until he heard him sigh contentedly.

"Can we ask Teddy and Jamie to stay and have dinner with us?"

"Mary is waiting for James and the children, but we can certainly do."

"Nice. I love what we did here."

"I love it too."

**Author's Note:**

> Comment here for on [Livejournal for the author to see](http://hd-familyfest.livejournal.com/18012.html). Authors & Artists will remain anonymous until reveals - posted after October 1, 2016


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